


The Student Princess

by ejmags



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Based on a Tumblr Post, F/F, F/M, Lesbian Princess, Magic, Necromancy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-21
Updated: 2020-10-10
Packaged: 2020-10-25 00:43:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 19,907
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20715269
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ejmags/pseuds/ejmags
Summary: A Once Upon A Time AU set at Boston College with the perils and rewards of striking out on one's own, making amends for mistakes, and running from one's past to forge a new future. Also learning to control magic powers, using and abusing those powers, and divining whether it was magic all along or if the real prize was the friendships we made along the way...Story inspired by the operetta 'The Student Prince', FayJay's Merlin AU of the same name, and a Tumblr post asking for a story about a lesbian princess.EDIT: If anyone is wondering what I listen to while writing...Spotify





	1. Chapter 1

Fanfare was something she neither expected nor appreciated, in fact, it embarrassed her to no end, but the overwhelming swarm of students completely ignoring her existence was an even worse feeling. That had been the plan after all, hadn't it? To get a normal education unbeknownst to the larger student population, start fresh, and quietly live out her life without rocking the boat?

Tugging along a single bag of clothes and a backpack full of school supplies, Emma had no idea where she was going. Pushing her thick glasses up the bridge of her nose, a pathetic excuse for a disguise, she pulled out the campus map again. Spinning around wasn't helping her figure out where she was and it definitely wasn't helping her figure out where she was going.

"You lost, sister?"

"Wh—uh, do you know where Vanderbilt is?"

The man, a bit short in stature and bearded, wore a puffy vest and a beanie despite the warm weather, had heard the hall's name misspoken a dozen times over. His coveralls had 'Leroy' embroidered on the front in blue swirling letters.

"Nashville. Vanderslice is on the other side of campus," he explained patiently.

"Oh," Emma grimaced, flipping the map around, "That makes more sense."

"Transfer?" he grumbled. Emma nodded. "Come on."

"Thank you…" Emma replied sheepishly as she stepped in tow of Leroy's lumbering gait. They trekked their way across the campus to the upper-class dormitories. "I'm guessing I'm not the first person to sound like an idiot today."

"You're not the first and you definitely won't be the last," Leroy agreed, not losing a beat in his step for the sake of socializing, "Though most upperclassmen can handle reading the campus map."

"Touché," she agreed, then added cautiously, "eh—Leroy?"

The man looked down and shook his head. "I hate this uniform."

"Sorry. That was invasive. I'm Emma. I'm bad at directions, cartographically and instructionally, but I'm pretty good at getting people to talk," she goaded as she skipped to meet Leroy's stride, "usually."

Relenting only begrudgingly, Leroy picked up the conversation. "I teach for the geology department. Some students call me Grumpy to juxtapose my sparkling personality."

"Yeah," she smirked, "the irony is palpable."

"You're catching me in a rare moment of generosity and an open desire to avoid my department head."

"Just my luck."

"Luckily, you're traveling light."

"I stick to the essentials."

"Yeah," he looked at her skeptically, "You're not from around here, are you?"

She shook her head. "Tallahassee."

Leroy laughed. "Hope you've got snow gear in that bag. This is New England, girlie."

"I'll figure it out. I'm not about to pass up Boston because of chilly weather."

"They all say that," Leroy chimed, "before the first blizzard."

The persistent pessimism brought a chuckle out of Emma. Gratefully, too, because her nerves were sensitive from being on high alert all day. She was new to Boston, but she was no stranger to a northeast winter. White Christmases, skiing, cabin fireplaces crackling, cups of hot cocoa, whiteouts, wind, ice on the roads, and frostbite nipping at more than the nose. Trucking through the middle of campus in the hot August summer sunshine, her concerns were more about finding air conditioning and sunscreen than puffy coats and thermal blankets.

"Vandy's the big one on the other side of that mess of modulars," Leroy pointed as he cut towards a parking garage, "Think you can navigate that?"

"Yeah. Thanks!" Emma called at his receding back. She was on her own whether she was confident in the directions or not.

Cutting through a large parking lot she passed a huge recreation facility and weaved through a veritable minefield of residence buildings until she came to the ornate brick building. The entrance was beautifully decorated in gothic fashion, while the rest of the façade mellowed to a more practical simple brick facing.

Lower campus was almost impossibly busier than upper. There were fewer cars queued up outside the dorms and up the road, but there were far more people spread out on the grass on beach towels or throwing frisbees and footballs around. Laughter and screams of reunion filled the air with cacophonous joy. Music drifted out of dorm room windows and pumped from a student body booth at the far end of the complex.

Emma checked in with the staff person working the door, a resident advisor named Ursula. Nametags seemed to be a prevalent form of communication on campus, as Ursula indicated her name and rank with corresponding taps to the sticker on her chest. There was a little green octopus drawn in one corner and a music note in the opposite. Guessing they were homages to her course studies, all be it an odd combination, she could at least hear the melodic lilt in her voice to accompany musical training.

Ursula was kind enough to show Emma to her dorm building. She gave her a funny look when Emma implied that she was both alone and indeed carrying all her belongings. The R.A. probably felt bad for her, but Emma assured her that she had all the essentials. No one seemed to believe her when she said that.

Collecting the keys from Ursula, Emma hiked up the stairs amidst gabbing students and parents alike. People with boxes and bags were buzzing up and down each hallway, in and out of suites, back and forth from cars and to rooms. Emma poked her head into her assigned suite warily before actually entering. The dorm looked luxurious compared to her expectations: a large common room with couches and coffee table, another table and chairs, and hallways shooting off in two directions to bedrooms and bathrooms.

"You must be the straggler," a tall girl squeaked in behind Emma. She was suited up for a run and her brunette hair had violent red streaks running through a ponytail. The girl offered her hand, "Ruby Lucas."

"Emma," she said, taking the hand offered. Ruby's grip was mangling.

"I guessed," Ruby giggled lightly, "I bumped into everybody else already."

"Oh. Yeah, sure. Kinda took the long way around campus."

"Your roommate is really excited to meet you," Ruby indicated the farther hallway with a nod as she tied a shoelace, "And get your personal decorator's number."

Emma cringed. And so it began.

"See ya around," Ruby said cheerily as she grabbed a water bottle off the common room table and jogged out the door.

There were plenty of things that Emma regretted doing in her life, but this was going to be a whole new world full of regretting leaving home where she belonged. Going out into the world should not have been an option, and yet, she had insisted on getting out. This was her punishment: exposure to real people.

She refrained from popping her knuckles as she headed for her room. Her name was written on a little whiteboard on the door along with her roommates': Hua M. and M.M. Blanchard Her name was a bit less delicately written than the others: E. Swan. She still felt uncomfortable with having her presence broadcasted, even in incognito fashion.

Emma slid the key in the lock but the handle jiggled open before she could grab it.

A bright-eyed girl greeted her. Her short hair raven black bob gave her a dramatically sophisticated appearance. "Are you Emma?"

"If you're…" Emma checked the label on the door, "Hua M.?"

"Mulan," the girl pulled the door open and cleared the way for her to come in.

Feeling the urge to go right back out, Emma guessed which bed was Mulan's right away. Her bedspread was in bold reds and black, the decorative pillows printed with intricate geometric designs, an extra blanket folded neatly at the foot. She had expected decorative filigree flowering vine things to be pasted on the walls, but it looked like her roommate was in the middle of hanging band posters. Relieved, Emma noticed there were two beds made of the three in the room.

"Know who our third is?" she asked, tossing her stuff on the unmade bed lofted over the desk.

"Not yet," Mulan eyed her curiously, "The rooms aren't the same square footage so they try to save having to triple up the smaller ones for last. She just got assigned a few minutes ago, according to the R.A."

"Then—" Emma started, stopping herself abruptly as she looked at the bed over Mulan's chosen bunk. She recognized the delicate floral bedding as fit for a princess. "I guess you met the gang."

"Of lady's maids that came and dressed the room? Yeah, we got to know each other this morning. Nice gals," Mulan said earnestly, then indicated the posters already up, "Gave me some good tips on how to hang these bad boys without leaving a mark on the walls."

"Oh. Good. They're pretty crafty."

"I asked them if you came with them, but they said they didn't know your agenda."

"I don't have an agenda," Emma replied cheekily.

"Kinda sounds like you might."

"I don't. Do you?"

"No. You sure?"

"Yup."

"Okay."

"Okay."

Mulan let the awkward conversation evaporate as quickly as it had happened, finished hanging the last poster and sat on her bunk to supervise.

Weirdest introductory interaction ever over, Emma started unpacking her things into an empty dresser drawer. She wondered if this was how goldfish felt going about their days in clear glass bowls set precariously on countertops…

Less comfortable with the silence, Emma couldn't help talking while she unpacked her bags. "Lots of us here, isn't there? But it seems like a big common room."

"Have you met the rest of our suite yet?"

"Uh, ran into Ruby," Emma breathed, recalling the brief interaction and wondering if there was going to be anyone in their suite that she would just be able to nod to in the hallways without getting a once over.

"She's cool," remarked Mulan, "Anyone else?"

"Just you. Three next door and three in the other hall?"

"Cruella and Rae are the other two next door. Only the R.A. is in the other room, Regina Mills."

Pausing for long enough for Mulan to take an interest, Emma resumed with a sentence too innocuous to go unnoticed: "The R.A., huh? Guess we won't be the party suite."

Mulan looked at her appraisingly. "That's totally not what you were going to say."

"What?"

"Okay, maybe it is what you were going to say," Mulan conceded, "but it's not what you were thinking."

The conversation between the two devolved into a standoff. Emma shoved a final t-shirt in the dresser and closed it, leaning up against the wood paneling and folding her arms over her chest. Having had enough judgment for one day, she became instantly defensive, tightening her posture as she asked, "What's it to you?"

In an instant, Mulan deflated. "Nothing! Sorry. None of my business. But this is all a bit cosmically coincidental, don't you think?"

There it was. The glasses and fake last name weren't fooling anybody up close. At least Emma didn't have to explain anything. Mulan knew what was up with Emma's reaction to living in a suite with Regina Mills, but she wasn't about to let Emma get away with it either. "Regina Mills? So, what, you're friends with her?"

"I know the Mills family," Mulan answered cryptically.

Keeping her walls up, Emma zipped her backpack up and hung it on the back of a chair. "So, you know it all, do ya?"

"Enough to know you probably shouldn't have applied to the school under a fake name," she teased, "Or at least given housing a heads up."

"No one likes drama."

"Nope."

"Is this what it's gonna be like?"

"Not necessarily."

Confused, Emma scooted onto the dresser and leaned over to sit her elbows on her knees. "Then, what is it going to be like?"

"That's up to you," she said amiably, "I apologize for being bold. I have half the story and no right to judge you, let alone after knowing you for five minutes."

Mulan puzzled Emma. Despite her defensive nature, the conversation wasn't sending Emma running for a safe haven from her terrible new roommate. The opposite, in fact, she thought she might have just met the most open-minded person on campus. Mulan was being upfront, even if she was having a bit of fun in the process.

"Alright," Emma finally said, "So you get that what I was actually thinking was that it is a cruel and fitting twist of fate that Regina Mills is not only in charge of my floor but living in the room around the corner. That's my kind of luck."

"This is Boston," laughed Mulan, "Luck isn't only for the Irish."

"I hear they've got the monopoly," a soft voice came from the doorway.

Mulan waved the woman in. "Hey. Ready to go?"

"Yeah, last box unpacked," she answered as she finished tying a long, dark braid with an elastic. "E. Swan?"

Emma gave her a nod. "Emma."

"Rae," she nodded back, flipping the long dark braid over her shoulder. Emma had found her hallway nod buddy.

Rae disappeared back out the door as Mulan slid on a pair of boots. "If you want, we're going to the dining hall. Special today's grilled cheese."

Emma's eyes lit up. "I love grilled cheese."

Mulan snorted and disappeared after Rae. Emma grabbed her freshly printed student ID and jogged out the door.


	2. Chapter 2

The afternoon sun weaved between trees and buildings as it dipped lower on the horizon. Students slowly disappeared from the lawns in favor of dinner, and all the parents leaving freed up the parking lots for the permanent residents to settle in. Seeking food themselves, the new roommates approached the nearest dining hall only to find a swarm of activity around the entrance.

Emma wasn't sure what to do, but she followed Mulan's lead and managed to find the right line for cheesy carbo-loaded delight. She couldn't believe the number of people packed into the building. She wasn't used to being in the middle of so many people—around them, maybe, but not without mandatory yardage between her and the next person.

"So, are you a transfer too or returning?"

"Transfer," Mulan answered, "Go Eagles!"

"Right," laughed Emma, "I guess I should get more maroon and gold in my closet."

"Where'd you transfer from?"

"The internet," she half-joked.

"Oh. I bet," nodded Mulan, locking her fingers together behind her back and leaning against the wall they were queued against. "What's your major?"

"English lit. You?"

"Psychology. Really? Lit?"

Emma shrugged. "I couldn't really pick so I went with what I had the most credits in."

"So, a major with lots of reading and analysis. You sure did pick it."

"I like fairytales."

"Aren't you kind of living one?"

The blank look from Emma told Mulan the answer was definitely no. Moving on, Emma asked, "What do you want to do?"

"I'm not sure. Therapy probably."

At the front of the line, Emma beheld a wondrous display of grilled cheese personalization. Anything you could dream of putting between two slices of bread: chicken, ham, turkey, salami, peppers, greens, onions, tomatoes, avocado, sauces, cheese of every variety, and a mother-load mound of smoked bacon. When asked what she would like by the kitchen worker on the other side of the counter, Emma couldn't decide. She told the worker to surprise her. The worker—Tiana, according to her nametag—looked at her like she was off her rocker, but then looked at the spread of things in front of them.

Tiana reached for the marbled rye first then recoiled. Taking instead the honey wheat sliced bread, she started with cheddar jack followed by slices of hardboiled egg, fresh spinach leaves, a slice of pepper jack, and finished off with the crispy bacon at the end of the counter. She carefully placed the sandwich on the grill and scurried back to the sauces. She squirted some pesto mayonnaise into a little cup and handed it to Emma. When the sandwich was done, she cut it diagonally before plating it with a handful of French fries.

"Just dip it in the sauce and it'll be perfect," Tiana instructed with a wink.

"Holy crap…" Emma replied, excited and drooling over the concoction on the plate. She could already tell she was going to be frequenting this dining facility a lot.

A quick trip to the soda fountain and they crammed into a booth with a couple of guys that flagged them down. Mulan introduced the lumberjack-ish hipster of the pair as August and the darker, broodier of them as Killian. Both were handsome and charming, raucously full of laughter and jollity. Relaxing around the carefree men, Emma settled in between Mulan and Killian and—impressively, according to Killian—masticated the crap out of her monstrous grilled cheese. A bit embarrassed, Emma realized that the glasses served a dual purpose of masking her face both from recognition and an excuse to cover her face with the hand sliding them back into place.

Towards the end of their meal, they made room for a sweaty Ruby to scarf down a grilled cheese that was mostly meat. The guys gave her a bad time but she chirped right back with a dessert challenge that could not be declined. The trio devoured a sizeable amount of ice cream and cookies despite Rae's warnings about tummy aches.

"They're grown men," Ruby garbled through a mouthful of cookie, "Let them suffer for their sweet rewards."

"We didn't even make a proper bet," Killian protested, showing the signs of his British grammar beyond the lilting accent.

"Losers wash my car," Mulan offered.

August rolled his eyes and Killian was about to raise arms in the unfairness of the proposal when Ruby cleared her mountain of remaining ice cream in one swoop. Shutting Killian up promptly set Mulan and Emma into a fit of laughter.

Rolling the three overstuffed students out of the dining hall, the gaggle all made for the quad. Twilight was falling and the last bits of sunset were snuffing out on the horizon. The group collapsed on a patch of grass and stared up at the emerging stars. Rae called for everyone to make a wish. Quietly, they all shut their eyes and wished, besides Killian and Ruby braking into a dead-arm battle.

Sharing in the bit of solace, surrounded by the muffled sounds of college life, Emma breathed deeply for the first time since arriving on campus. She thought maybe, if not easily or anywhere near perfectly, this might work out.

Returning to the dorm building, each floor was corralled into groups and given the usual abbreviated version of the rules and regulations of living in the dorm. Nothing too special: know the fire exits, no alcohol in the rooms of those still underage, respect everyone's property, what to do if you get locked out, etc., etc. Altogether, it was a boring and fairly by the book meeting to get through the paperwork of signing roommate and suitemate agreements not to lie, cheat, or steal from one another.

At least, that's what it was for most of the students in the room. For Emma, it was an exercise in holding her breath.

Since Mulan had given her the tidbit of information that could send her year into a free-fall, there had been a tiny voice in the back of her head whispering that it was only a matter of hours before she would be face to face with the one person she could have gone her whole life without seeing ever again. At the front of the group giving a threatening talk on all the things that would warrant demerits stood that terrifying individual: Regina Mills.

Mulan looked bored. Rae listened attentively. Ruby's thumbs fluttered rapidly over her phone's touchscreen. Emma fixated on the swirls and speckles dotting the carpet to keep from being noticed.

Regina must have said something funny as a wave of chuckles over the crowd pulled Emma out of her speckle counting session with the carpet. Papers were being passed out and people were starting to filter out of the common room.

"Make sure I have your signed agreements back by the end of the week. I'll try to keep the suite door open when I'm around. If that's not open, just slide it under the door."

Taking a paper from a guy in front of her, Emma made for the door as quickly and as hidden by the crowd as possible. She wouldn't be able to avoid Regina forever, but she could possibly put it off for a whole day. Maybe if she holed up in her room for the night and left early for class she could make it through her whole move in and first day without incident. Maybe they would decide independently to avoid each other at all costs and the only time they would be in indirect contact would be meetings like this. Maybe living in separate rooms would be enough of a buffer. Maybe their schedules would be so different it would be like they weren't even at the same school.

Maybe was a fickle word. Maybe was a word for dreamers.

Emma scanned the agreement. Each suite was supposed to have a conversation about suite etiquette and all were to agree to the terms decided. That would mean a meeting with Regina, and thankfully everyone else in the suite. Maybe they would just blow through the discussion without acknowledging one another and never have to speak ever again. That scenario was the only hope she could cling to.

Gathering in the common area of the suite, Emma finally met the illusive other suitemate, Cruella. She was a slight girl with an unusual black and white bob and a chic manner about her. She seemed quiet but laughed sharply at Ruby's jokes.

"Sorry," she introduced herself loudly and oddly unapologetically, "You're the mysterious royal granddaughter? Heir to—"

"Yeah, that's me," Emma cut her off. She didn't need all the titles rehashed. Her heritage was painfully ridiculous.

Cruella's eyes lit up. "Brilliant…"

She wore all black: a cutout leather dress, tall leather boots, and stockings with an intricate lace pattern. In comparison, Emma's black jeans needed a wash, her tight tan tank top was very plain and her worn brown leather boots were in need of new soles. When it came to breeding and proper grooming, Emma hoped she would at least win points for originality.  
Radiating with a nefarious aura that one might have expected from an evil mastermind, Cruella continued, "It must be liberating to be on your own. Out of the palace and crammed in a dorm with a bunch of strangers."

Interrupted before Emma could correct the assumption, the distraction by the striking woman got Emma's guard down long enough for her to physically jump when Regina entered the room in a buzz with a stack of paperwork.

"Alright, let's get this done quick," Regina flew through the suite and into her room swift as a breeze. "I'll be there in a minute."

Emma let out a heavy sigh that caught Mulan's attention. She leaned towards the blonde and asked, "You're really freaking out right now, aren't you?"

"Resident to someone with plenty of very valid reasons for holding a huge grudge against me? I'm not exactly relaxed."

Mulan frowned, but before she could offer words of comfort or rebuttal, a new face dropped into the suite with bags on her arms. "Hi! I'm Mary Margaret. I hope I'm in the right—"

Before she could complete her sentence, Regina returned to the suite and slung her leg over the back of a chair to sit on the arm. "Miss Blanchard. You've finally joined us. Why don't you pull up a seat."

"Yes! Uh, thanks," she stuttered sweetly as Ruby made room beside her on the couch. The woman, pale as snow and sweet looking as pie, lugged her bags into her lap and awkwardly took the offered seat. Ruby tried to shuffle out of the way of the lumpy bags, but they had her pinned in place.

"Sorry I haven't had the chance to meet you all until now, but here we are," Regina said with a cheery enough tone, "Is everyone clear on the discussion from the hall meeting?"

Each nodded and there was a mess of muddled confirmations of having all been introduced. Mary Margaret looked a bit like a deer in the headlights as Regina handed her an extra packet.

"Great," Regina exhaled as she looked around the group, tactfully avoiding Emma's stare as much as Emma avoided hers, "Then we should talk over these guidelines a bit. You all have the unfortunate luck to be my suitemates, so not only does that mean you'll all have to really follow the rules but you'll also have to deal with residents buzzing in and out of the suite to talk to me."

"You'll have to deal with all the guys visiting me, so we'll call it even," Ruby winked. Mulan snorted and Cruella chuckled. Mary Margaret looked horrified by the raunchy joke. Regina's eyebrow shot up in question. Emma briefly smirked but quickly returned to counting speckles on the laminate floor.

They got into the details of the paperwork: defining quiet hours, basic rules for communal spaces both within the larger suite and the smaller dorm rooms, agreeing to actively communicate if there were any problems between residents. Standard text to help students get along in cramped living spaces and giving the school legal padding against any disputes that did develop.

Cruella quickly filled out her copy with a flourished signature before handing it to Regina and wending off to her room. Mary Margaret appeared to be taking a test with the speed at which she copied down the words verbatim. Rapunzel, Emma, and Mulan wrote at respectable clips and added their papers to the pile before Mary Margaret was anywhere near signing.

Making frightfully solid eye contact as Emma handed over the paper, Regina smiled with no amount of genuine happiness. "I'm sorry I wasn't around to welcome you to campus earlier, Miss Swan. I assume everything is to your liking."

Though kind words on the surface, the bite of formality had Mary Margaret peek at the dubious interaction while finishing her packet. There was no mistaking the rigidity between the two with cordiality: Emma seemed relaxed with her hand in her pocket as she handed over the paper, but she was stiff as a board compared to Regina confidently planted on the arm of the chair.

Despite her want to release the paper and go straight to the safety of her room, Emma stood her ground. "Everything's fine. Thanks."

"You'll let me know if anything or anyone gives you trouble, won't you?"

"I don't expect anyone to go out of their way on my account."

"Effective communication is extremely important," Regina commented pointedly, "I trust there won't be any trouble in that area, will there?"

Releasing the paper, Emma dipped out of her squared stance to prep her escape from the conversation. "No trouble from me."

"Glad to hear it," Regina snapped the paper into her folder sharply, "Goodnight, Miss Swan."

"Yeah…" Emma said distantly in response before zooming into her room.

Not far behind, Mary Margaret must have slammed out the end of her paperwork in order to gossip with Emma immediately. She burst through the door to Emma still changing into her pajamas and Mulan digging through her things for a toothbrush.

"What was that about?" Mary Margaret asked excitedly.

"That's Regina," Emma said frankly, "An actor with the power of a terrifying façade to hide her loathing."

"She's not hiding it that well."

"No," Emma agreed, "No, she definitely is not. Get used to the cold shoulder and passive-aggressive comments, because they're about to start flying."

"Oh, no," Mary Margaret warned with a laugh, "When Regina hates you, there's nothing passive about it. This is only Phase One."


	3. Chapter 3

"Sorry?"

"Sorry, that was ambiguous," Mary Margaret backtracked, "We should probably get to know each other a little bit before—I mean, if you want to—it's definitely none of my business, but that was just such a strange interaction—"

Pulling on a sleepshirt rapidly, Mulan interjected, "What the hell happened? You were out there like two minutes."

Emma rolled her eyes. "Regina's a master."

"Intriguing…"

"Is there something I should know about?"

"No," Emma and Mulan replied in chorus.

Shooting them both an unconvinced look, Mary Margaret tossed her bags on the empty bed. "If you don't want to talk about it, I won't pry."

Emma let out a nervous breath. "It's just a misunderstanding. Don't worry about it."

"Alrighty then…"

The awkward standoff between the two ebbed away as Mulan squeezed a pearl of toothpaste onto her toothbrush and stuck it in her mouth. Moving between them, she shared an incredulous look with Emma before slipping out to the bathroom.

Mary Margaret had a sweet smile and a disarming charm. Emma had a lot of experience with smiling politicians hiding fangs, and this wasn't like that. She appeared genuinely kind. It wasn't a good enough reason to explain her past with Regina to a complete stranger, but it was a decent enough reason to relax.

Returning to her bags, Mary Margaret began to unpack. She started with bedding: a patchwork quilt in pastels and florals, pillowcases with delicate lace edging, more pillows covered in embroidered leaves. She quickly set up the bed, just in case she collapsed from the journey without getting fully settled that night. Clearing the bedding bag, she propped it up and moved on to toiletries and sleepwear.

Exhausted, Emma wanted nothing more than to crawl into bed and watch Mary Margaret pull items from her bags like Mary Poppins' carpetbag. Her packing system was almost seamless in allowing her to unpack quickly and efficiently and store the empty bags all back in on each other. Mulan returned from the bathroom and was just as quickly fascinated with the other woman's organizational skills.

A loud grumble from Mary Margaret's stomach cut through the silence. She grabbed her stomach and looked around. She hadn't packed a snack bag.

"Darn it…" she muttered, flustered and suddenly realizing her hunger was compounding.

"I've got yogurt in the fridge," Mulan offered.

"Oh, that's very kind, but I'll just run to the mini-mart before it closes."

"Suit yourself," Mulan shrugged and rolled onto her bed.

Mary Margaret dug her wallet out of her purse and scampered out the door. Wanting the rest of the story, Mulan reached her leg out to poke the back of Emma's kneecap. Emma's leg started to buckle but she caught herself before it went too far.

"Hey!" she spun around and swatted at the offending foot, "What do you want?"

"What did Regina say to you?"

"She was perfectly cordial."

"I'm sure she was."

"She's just—whatever. I should just apply to transfer to another floor. It'll make it easier on both of us."

Mulan scowled. "Don't let her bluster scare you off. You have just as much right to be here as she does."

"Okay, okay…" Emma brushed off the conversation. She dug around in her bag for her own toiletries and made for the bathroom.

Rae and Cruella were already bumping elbows at the sink. Cruella was clearly in the middle of plucking, primping, and setting for the next day. Rae was just settling in with a cleanser and hand towel. The sound of the shower running could be heard through the interior door.

"Ruby just got in the shower. I'll be done in a couple minutes," Rae provided.

"I won't," Cruella added flatly.

"The other bathroom is probably empty."

Emma looked in the dangerous direction. The door was open and the lights were off. The kitchenette sink was unoccupied, solving half the problem.

Realizing she was being silly, Emma shook off the want to run and made her way to the other bathroom in the suite. Seven people sharing two bathrooms? There would be no such thing as privacy.

Emma braved the bathroom across from Regina's room. A dim light flickered on as she entered the outer washroom. There was a small night light plugged into an outlet. The cover was an ornate thorny vine filigree that cast creepy shadows in the walls. Emma hit the light switch and the little light shut off.

The rest of the washroom was just as creepily yet pleasantly decorated. Differently sized candles sat on either side of the sink. She picked one up. It smelled of apples. A toothpaste holder, toothbrush container, soap dish and tissue box cover all matched the filigree vines of the night light. On the far wall, a black hand towel hung from a stick-on hook. Without a doubt, Regina had firmly moved into this space.

Didn't matter: Emma needed to pee and wash up before bed. A simple enough task that no one could possibly have a qualm with. She started with teeth, then washed her face. The longer she stood in the washroom, the more she felt like an idiot for being afraid to use Regina-adjacent facilities. She packed up her things and went into the inner bathroom. More candles and macabre towels.

Returning to the sink, Emma barely flicked the water on before noticing a figure looming behind her in the mirror. Regina loitered against the back wall with a fluffy towel over her arm. She smiled, patiently leaning, silently observing.

"Sorry—the other one was full."

A dryness in her tone, Regina replied, "No, no, make yourself at home."

Regina strolled into the bathroom and slammed the door shut. Emma finished as fast as she could and got out of the washroom. Any more time with Regina and she was sure to have a nightmare.

Stalking back to her room, Emma found Mulan had turned off the ceiling light in favor of a desk lamp and a reading lamp over her shoulder. She was happily curled up in bed with headphones in and a book open on her knee, _Tao of Jeet Kune Do_. Glad for the darkness, Emma changed for bed and hiked the ladder into her upper bunk. There was a little light installed up there for her as well, this one a faint shade of pink to match the bedding. She clicked the little wheel around until it shut off and rolled over with a sigh of relief. Sleep would take this day away and bring a brand new one soon…

Not a few seconds later, Emma felt a soft tap on her bunk frame. Rolling back to hang over the edge, Mulan edged over the side of her bed and popped an earbud out.

"Will the lights bother you?"

"Nope. I can sleep through hurricanes."

"Cool."

They both maneuvered back into place. While her body was ready to rest, Emma's thoughts spun around the events of the day. More people had clocked her than she'd hoped, but it could have been worse—far worse—and she was thankful for that. The last thing she wanted was to draw attention. Attention had a habit of finding her, however.

Rolling back over the edge of the bed, she waved a few fingers at Mulan. Again, the woman popped out an earbud and leaned to the side of her bed.

"What's up?"

"What do you think Mary Margaret meant by 'Phase One'?"

Mulan snorted. "I have no idea."

"You said you knew the Mills family."

"Yeah, not like that."

Mulan returned to her book and music.

Again, Emma rolled back into bed. Shifty and unable to fall asleep, Emma scooted her pillows up and watched the door for Mary Margaret's return.

Their third roommate returned to the dorm within a few minutes, half a sandwich and apple in hand. Mary Margaret noticed the darker lighting and tried her best to be quiet as she shut the door. She toed off her shoes delicately and bit the apple to hold it while she set the rest of her things down gently.

"We're both still up," Mulan said a bit loudly over the music in her ears, eyes unwavering from the pages of her book.

"Oh," Mary Margaret grunted through the apple. She snapped a chunk off and chewed quickly. "Thanks. Sorry."

Going about unpacking with the apple and sandwich not far out of reach, Mary Margaret got through a whole drawer before Emma cracked. She drew her pillows back down and rolled to face the wall. The question could wait.

Mulan popped out her headphones and slid a bookmark into place before rolling onto her belly. "Emma gives up: what's Phase One?"

Moving on to hanging dresses up in the closet, Mary Margaret glowed with knowledge learned the hard way. "Conversational alienation. Sounds pretty normal to the untrained ear, but it sounds like being targeted to the intended recipient."

Sounding familiar, Emma rolled to face the rest of the room. "Go on."

"What happened out there? Being friendly but not really. If she didn't care she probably would've just been nice or ignored you. Like she did me. Makes you feel alone, special in a bad way."

"This is oddly specific information you have," Mulan pointed out.

"Oh, she used to absolutely hate me."

"We should start a club," griped Emma.

"What's Phase Two?"

"Active sabotage," Mary Margaret's answer was downright spritely, "Anything to make you look bad. She's pretty good at digging up dirt on   
people."

Emma groaned, "That won't be a challenge…"

"Phase Three?"

"I don't know. We get along now."

Discouraged, Emma asked, "How'd you get out of it?"

"I'd like to think we grew out of it, but I think she just found someone new to hate. Which is kind of like moving on, in a way…"

Annoyed, Emma continued, "How do you know Regina so well?"

"She saved me from a runaway horse."

Emma and Mulan stared at Mary Margaret. It sounded like a joke, but nothing on the earnest woman's face said it was anything but the truth. Mulan exploded with laughter. Emma gawked.

"Wait, are you serious?"

"Yeah. The horse got spooked, she came out of nowhere and grabbed me off him."

"How do you go from saving someone to hating them?"

Fading memories darted Mary Margaret's gaze toward the ceiling. "Stupid kid stuff."

"You really like dropping cliffhangers there, Marge," Emma egged her on.

Finally changing into her pajamas, Mary Margaret replied almost wistfully, "We're all entitled to our secrets."


	4. Chapter 4

There wasn't a bone in Emma's body that wasn't nervous for the first day of class. Mondays started off the week slow with just two classes, though they were longer lectures. Emma's day started at 10 a.m. with a core class for her English major. The topic was doppelgängers, the reading list including literature from _The Prince and the Pauper_ to _Twelfth Night_ and films like _Fight Club_ and _Bladerunner_. She easily settled into the back row and pulled out a notebook and pencil. Most of the rest of the students pulled out laptops and tablets. An oddly fitting sense of antiquity made Emma smirk. She might as well have brought parchment and a quill.

The professor, Dr. Hopper, stood at the head of the class and rambled on about the syllabus for a few minutes, outlining all the papers and tests that would comprise the semester's curriculum, his office hours, and the goals of the course. He was an adept enough speaker, but he didn't seem happy to have an auditorium full of students. He kept trying to connect with the farthest away students but the distance hindered his progress. Double-checking her student profile on her phone, Emma confirmed that Dr. Hopper was her academic advisor. Pleased with the knowledge, she tried to listen to him more actively from her far off corner.

After the lecture concluded Emma's stomach grumbled. Like many of her fellow classmates, it seemed that breakfast hadn't been as high a priority as barreling through to lunch on caffeine and sheer will. There was nothing of her own in the mini-fridge in the dorm remotely representing breakfast. A shopping trip might not be a bad idea.

Emma milled outside the classroom trying to calculate the best dining hall to go to before her next class. Someone bumped her map and crumpled the page in half.

"Hey!-oh, hey," Emma jerked in response to the interruption, only to look up and find Mulan had been the one to commit the offense.

"Lunch?"

"Yeah, when's your next class?"

"Not for a while. Where are you going?"

"Across campus. Any suggestions?"

"Me too. We're going to dine in ol' McElroy."

Emma flipped the map around and found McElroy Commons. Looking up at the arrangement of buildings outside the window, Emma made a sharp turn to the right. Mulan grabbed the loop of Emma's backpack and tugged her back in the other direction.

"This way, Magellan. You know, I'm kind of surprised you got to the right classroom this morning…"

Stumbling over her own feet to catch up, Emma huffed, "You and me both…"

***

Emma's second class of the day was going to be more of a challenge. She was far more scared to attend this course than she was reluctant to deal with Regina. Emma had baggage both physical and emotional to carry around, but this… This was the price of going to a normal school. This class was the tradeoff she made with her grandfather to attend college classes in person.

Making her way to the end of a staircase in a building on the edge of campus, one that wasn't marked on the larger school maps let alone any map that could be found without an extensive search for that which one already knows exists. To find the room, one had to possess more than a campus map. One had to possess a bit of magic.

Emma headed for the underbelly of the school—areas sealed off to the regular student. For more than one or two reasons, was not a regular student.

Emma came to a sealed door at the bottom of the staircase. It looked like storage, but there was a little carving notched into the stone above the door. It was an old mark, about as old as they came in New England, indicating a room that was far more than broom storage. Holding her hands in front of her, she tried to open the door. The symbol above the door glowed gold, but nothing happened. She tried a second time with the same results.

Startled by a giggle behind her, Emma jumped out of her skin. The last thing she wanted was to get outed on her first day. Whirling around, she found a blonde woman with big eyes and a wide grin. She stepped forward and grabbed the door handle. The symbol above the door glowed green and the door swung open easily.

"Good try," the woman said, holding the door open for Emma.

They entered the room together and the woman immediately went to a seat by the basement window. The small wedge of a window showed the ceiling was just barely above ground. The slid her books out of a satchel and started flipping through them.

Emma took a stool a few away from the blonde along a long wooden bench that served as the scant furniture in the room. She took in the rest of her surroundings: stacks of books, a large chalkboard, a wall of oddly-shaped bottles filled with strangely colored liquids and mysterious supplies.

"You've got to be kidding me."

The drawl accompanied by the slam of books on the long wood bench reverberated through the cold air of the stone dungeon. Both looked up at Regina's dramatic entrance, but Emma wasn't as confused by the discontentment as the other woman.

"Goodness, Regina, what's wrong?"

"I can't get a bit of space to myself around here anymore," Regina growled, glaring at Emma instead of directing the comment at the asker.

Emma's head tilted in consternation. "So much for effective communication. That didn't even last a full 24 hours."

"You've got magic?"

"I've got magic."

"Of course you do. Why wouldn't you? You've got everything else I've got," Regina snarled, "Oh, wait, I guess I don't have status anymore. My bad."

"Been holding that in a while?"

"What makes you think that, Princess?"

"Enough!" a booming voice bounced around the room.

The blonde woman was the only one to be shaken. "Did everyone wake up on the wrong side of the bed today?!"

An old man, white beard and ratty red robes, appeared before them in a puff of smoke. "Forgive me, Elsa, that wasn't meant for you."

"Sorry, sir," Emma was quick to say. Regina rolled her eyes.

"Don't apologize," the Apprentice said, "Just mind your tempers. All of you. It is imperative that you learn to control your emotions before you learn to use magic in any meaningful way. No accidents in my class, not anymore."

"Anymore?" Emma asked warily, hoping that it was a long, long time ago and just a silly thing like a hole burned in the wall or a disappeared book.

The Apprentice looked at Regina with pity, but only for a split second before whirling around to the chalkboard. Regina's hands balled into fists and her lips pursed tightly. That was just what Emma liked to see: Regina even more pissed off than she had been a moment before. Emma glanced at Elsa, who immediately returned to flipping through her textbook with the utmost urgency. Class was off to a roaring start.

"I assume you're all familiar enough with each other," the Apprentice began scribbling on the board in an old script that Emma didn't recognize at all. "If not, you'll get to know each other well in due time. My focus this semester will be to get you all practiced in the methods of the Druids, as it seems to be a recurring failure in your home practices. Diligence, pupils, diligence is key!"

The Apprentice summoned a book from a stack in the back and flipped it open. "Now, please turn to page 394 and we will assess where everyone is with regard to some basic objectives. Please follow the directions on the board and I'll check in with you to see how you are progressing in a few minutes time."

"Sorry, sir—" Emma cut in, "I can't read anything that is in this book or on the board."

The Apprentice peered through his hooded eyes at Emma. Tucking his arms behind his back, he approached her with a discerning eye and glanced down at her book briefly before returning to her gaze.

"Not to worry, dear. That tells me exactly where you are," he clarified, "A bit behind."

Regina snorted and Elsa looked up from her book empathetically. Emma flushed with mortification.

"Come with me. Come, come."

The Apprentice brought Emma into a separate room deeper under the building. It was a wide-open space lined with dummies and crash pads. The high vaulted ceiling somehow opened up to a cloudy sky. It was dark and dank, reminiscent of an abandoned church sanctuary. A bit baffled by the room, Emma didn't like the look of it all.

"In order to read the runes, Miss Swan, you must open your mind to the possibilities. You must open your mind to magic."

"I'm not sure what you mean."

"That's evident," he bristled, "You are familiar with magical practice. That's only the first step. The next step is accepting magic as a part of your being."

"Yeah, okay, I get that."

"If you did," the old man winked, "you would be able to read the runes."

Circling the room, Emma remained unclear on what she was being asked to do. The Apprentice advanced to the middle of the room and she followed, arms contemplatively crossed over her chest. He moved softly and quietly over the cold stones while the heels of her boots made a harsh clacking sound that filled the eerily hollow space.

At the center of the room, the Apprentice summoned a small table. Upon it rested a large, leather-bound book, an ink well, and a black feather quill under a glass case. The box glowed from within. The book had delicate details: gold embossing swirled around gems inset in the leather, the letters making the title in the same unfamiliar hand as in her textbook and used by the Apprentice on the chalkboard. It was all lovely, but she didn't see the significance of yet another book that she couldn't read.

"I hear you are a student of literature, Miss Swan," the Apprentice finally said. Emma nodded, taking her gaze off the book long enough to see if he was going to give her a hint. She feared the book was the hint. "Do you believe everything you read?"

"I'm not going to be citing anything directly off Wikipedia, if that's what you mean."

The Apprentice frowned. "That is not what I mean."

"Right," Emma sighed, looking at the book again, "What's this book?"

The Apprentice grinned. He looked a bit like a jolly Santa Claus when he did with his fluffy white beard and red robes. "You will know when it is time."

"Is this class always going to be this cryptic?"

He chuckled, "I believe it will be cryptic to you for a while yet."

Emma leaned over the book to look at the case more closely. It glowed with magic. Next, she looked more carefully at the ink and the quill. They, too, appeared to have a shine about them but were just as ordinary as any other quill and inkwell otherwise. Lifting her gaze once more to the Apprentice, she waited for further instructions. He appeared to be waiting for her to have some sort of revelation of her own.

"Why don't we see how the others are faring?"

"Okay…" Emma answered confusedly. The Apprentice waved his hand before heading back into the main classroom. The table disappeared in a sparkling shower of magic. Both hands shoved in her jacket pockets, Emma spun on her heel and followed.

"Feathers, ladies, let's see them."

Sitting up straight very suddenly, Regina accidentally snuffed out something that was burning in front of her. Quickly, she summoned a pristine feather in front of her and floated it elegantly in the air. There were charred remains on the floor in front of her desk. Elsa sat with a puddle of water around her station and a frozen feather melting in front of her book. She appeared discouraged but determined to succeed.

The Apprentice didn't appear surprised at the results. Emma reclaimed her seat and looked around for the supplies that the other women had acquired. There were no spare feathers around. Before she could ask, the Apprentice created a soft, white feather for her and placed it on the worktable.

"The assignment is to create matter and manipulate it several different ways. I'll save you the first half to see how you perform the second."

Emma stared at the feather. She had no idea what to do, but she would try to emulate Regina's apparent success at levitation. Holding up her hand, Emma focused on a few single thoughts: the feather, her hand, and lift. The feather wobbled a bit, Emma thought more from her heavy breathing than from any powers from her fingertips. She recoiled for a second and thought about what the Apprentice had said: magic was a part of her being. Did that mean magic was like an extra limb, sort of like a phantom limb?

Her second attempt was more pointed. The feather lumbered off the table like a heavy cinderblock being lifted without a counterweight. Though strong, her abilities were intermittent. The tuft of fluff drifted two measures higher before falling a measure back. Emma got frustrated with the task quickly.

A faint burning sensation spread up her fingers, through her palm and to her wrist. She flicked her hand back in surprise.

The feather shot up to the ceiling and burst into flames. Gut reactions went around the room: Regina and the Apprentice's arms flew up and pushed Emma to the back of the room while Elsa shot a block of ice around the flaming feather. Emma slammed into a shelving unit of books, some of which came tumbling down on top of her. The ice snuffed out the flame almost instantly.

"What the hell?!" Emma shrieked, "Overreact much?"

Regina looked like she was about to rip into Emma for the unappreciative response to their protection, but the Apprentice silenced the onslaught with his own milder form of reprimand, "Merely a precaution, Miss Swan. Those new to magic can suffer the direst consequences. We want to keep everyone safe, especially on the first day of class."

Water dripped down onto Emma's section of the table. The little flaming feather was gone so Elsa was no longer maintaining the ice cage she created around the flame. It melted slowly off the ceiling.

Only then did Emma notice the damage to the ceiling. There was a huge scorch pattern running from the spot next to hers covering almost the entire ceiling. The black char pattern faded out from the central hot spot, licking out like tongues of fire had burst from the seat just to Emma's left, the space between Emma and Regina.

Emma struggled to get up. "Can I go now?"

The Apprentice had relented, but Regina hadn't yet released her hold on Emma. Regina's eyes grew wide with anger. She dropped her arm and Emma tumbled from the stool as all the resistance she had been fighting Regina's magic with finally won out. Picking herself up, she brushed off, grabbed her bag and left class.

Concerned, the Apprentice addressed his pupil, "Miss Mills?"

A long beat passed in silence before Elsa called for her too, "Regina? Are you okay?"

This time, it was Regina's turn to grab her bag and leave, "Sorry, Apprentice, I can't do this right now."

The Apprentice nodded, but Regina was halfway gone. Turning to his single remaining pupil, the Apprentice sighed, "Shall we continue, Miss d'Arendelle?"


	5. Chapter 5

"Commercial break. Continue."

"I think that about covers it," Emma asserted, having given Mary Margaret an edited version of events, "I am never going to that class ever again."

"That's a mature attitude."

"Tell that to Regina. She's the one that freaked out."

"You should try to talk to her about it. Or the professor."

"No thank you. Answer's going to be the same at the next commercial break."

"Not going to stop me from asking," Mary Margaret ground away at the rigid outer layer of Emma's brittle exoskeleton, "What class do you have with her, anyway? She's a chem major. Are you missing a science credit?"

Gently knocking on the open door, the little courtesy was completely unnecessary. Planted in the middle of the floor on giant beanbag chairs, Emma and Mary Margaret weren't hosting a private party.

Emma garbled through a mouthful of popcorn. "What's the password?"

Rae stood in the doorway in frilly shorts and tank top clutching a frilly pillow. Her usually tied back hair was loose for bed, which she was clearly not able to settle into at the moment. Her expression was on the distressed side.

"Mind if I hang out in here?" she asked desperately.

Without looking at each other, Emma and Mary Margaret made the same concerned face: eyebrows raised, lips turned down in a frown.

"Of course!" Mary Margaret tried to waddle her way out of the chair but Rae waved in the negative.

"Please, don't get up. I just can't sleep there right now."

Emma had finally finished chewing and swallowed in time to cut in, "Is everything okay with Cruella and Ruby?"

"Oh, yes, everything is fine. They're still awake. Mulan introduced Ruby to some game and they're playing together. I was just reading but it was getting a bit aggressive in there."

Emma nodded behind her to Mulan's bed, "If she comes back, we'll kick her back into your bed."

Relief swept over Rae quickly as she tucked herself under the covers. "What are you watching?"

"_How to Get Away with Murder_," the roommates answered together.

Emma laughed, "Probably not the calming alternative you were looking for…"

"So long as you aren't assembling your armies and yelling status updates at each other—"

"It's back!" Mary Margaret yelped and Emma immediately turned back to the show.

Rae took the hint and sat quietly upon the bed. She didn't know what was happening on the show, but it appeared to be a legal drama one minute and a mystery the next. Two people were talking in very close quarters when Emma balked and tossed popcorn at the screen.

"Run away with Jean Grey!" Emma yelled at the characters. Mary Margaret hushed her and batted her hand away from the popcorn. "You ship it, too."

"Yeah, I don't know what Six Pack gets out of this. If I were him, I would be running for the hills…"

"Who is Six Pack?" Rae asked innocently. The other two pointed to the man in the conversation. "Oh."

Rae waited for the commercial break to ask anything else. She wasn't about to turn into the disturbance that she had just escaped. By the time the commercials started to roll, she decided she was too far behind to ask them to catch her up.

"Sorry, Rae," Emma apologized, "Didn't mean to cut you off. You just can't miss a minute of that show."

Still very confused by what she saw, Rae nodded. "I can see that."

"But it's SO GOOD," Mary Margaret added, this time her mouth full of popcorn, "You're welcome to join us any time. We make a night out of it."

"Oh, wine!" Emma pulled an open bottle out of nowhere, "It's… uh, red blend. Whatever that means. If you want some."

"Get it right: Big Bad Red Blend."

"That really doesn't tell me what it should taste like."

"You picked it."

"The bottle is cute!" Emma defended, returning to Rae and offering the bottle up to the bunk. Her signature wave of decline shot up again. Shrugging and taking a swig straight from the bottle, Emma finished, "More undefined wine for me…"

"You really are the classiest…"

"I won that superlative in kindergarten, I think."

"Did you rig the vote?"

"Of course. Duchess and Lady didn't have a chance."

"You went to school with courtiers?" Rae nearly choked on air.

Emma snorted, "Duchess and Lady were my cat and dog, respectively. I only had a governess in my formative years."

"Oh," Rae relaxed, "Wait—really?"

The show returned and the group hushed for the final segment of the hour. Emma and Mary Margaret went into a flurry of questions and discussion about who had shot one of the major characters. Rae curled up her legs and listened, still having only a vague idea of some of the characters' names and almost none of the context.

"Where'd you go to school?"

The question caught Rae off guard. Emma and Mary Margaret looked at her expectantly.

"Me? Oh, I was homeschooled. My mother taught me all the way up through high school, then I started taking classes at the local community college."

"Wow… that's a lot of time in such a close environment," hummed Mary Margaret, her teacher's analytical mind kicking in, "Is this your first time being away from home for an extended period of time?"

Rae nodded. "I still can't believe my mother let me transfer to a college out of town. I think she finally realized that I really didn't want to be there anymore."

"Where's that?" Emma asked, clearing the bottom of the popcorn bowl.

"A small town in Maine. Storybrooke."

Emma froze, looking at Rae inquisitively. Rae didn't seem to notice as Mary Margaret's cooing cut through. "I hear Maine is lovely! Do you think you'll go back after graduation?"

"For holidays, absolutely. I don't know where I want to live otherwise—Emma? Are you alright? Have you been to Maine?"

Abandoning her tongue cleaning of the bowl, Emma replied as vaguely as she could: "I think I knew somebody from there… can't put my finger on it though."

She eyed Rae for any sign of recognition, but she was too honest to hide information for nefarious reasons. If Rae was indeed as sheltered as she seemed she probably had no idea what Emma was talking about. She didn't know why she was so anxious.

"It's a fairly small town, but I didn't really get out too often."

"Right," Emma rolled out of the beanbag chair, "I can't remember anyway. I'm probably mistaken."

"It would be quite a coincidence," Mary Margaret sighed. Emma left the room with the popcorn bowl. Then, softer, Mary Margaret asked conspiratorially, "Did you believe a word of that?"

"Sorry?"

"She got weird. She got weird about Storybrooke."

"I did say something wrong, didn't I?"

Mary Margaret let a single laugh float out, "No, it was perfect."

"So, she does know someone from my hometown?"

"If I were a bettin' woman…"

Rae was incredibly confused by the notion. What consequence would there be for knowing someone from her tiny fishing town near the tip of the country? "Well, she obviously doesn't want to talk about it."

"Yes…" Mary Margaret hummed again, "Bad blood."

"Or she really just doesn't remember."

"Or that."

"Or what?" Emma returned, the bowl cleaned.

Thinking on her beanbag chair sunk butt, Mary Margaret answered so Rae didn't have to come up with a fib, "I was asking if Rae here was going home for Thanksgiving. She isn't sure yet, and I said we might have a Friendsgiving here with all our suitemates."

"Already anxious for the semester to be nearly over? We just started classes."

"I just thought it was an idea…"

"Yeah…" Rae played along warily, "So we don't have to all go home."

"Well, we do have a couple months yet to figure it out."

Mary Margaret shrugged, "We'll see! Anyway, I'm exhausted and I have class at an ungodly hour. Goodnight, ladies!"

"Goodnight," Rae and Emma chimed in unison.

With Rae and Mary Margaret snuggled into their beds, Emma closed the dorm room door and hiked up to her own bed. Snuggling in herself, she buried her head in her lumpy pillow and tried to think of anything but Storybrooke. Calculus, Shakespeare, apple pie, Duchess and Lady—nothing put her mind at ease. The sleepy town would plague her thoughts until the end of time.


	6. Chapter 6

On a different floor of Vanderslice, Ursula had only just finished decorating her room. The room intended to be shared was all hers. She preferred simple colors and fluid design elements, but she planned on having a frequent visitor and making her room comfortable for both of them proved more challenging than originally anticipated.

They did have one thing in common, and that was a love of music. Ursula, herself a classical singer, would have stacks of sheet music lining the desk regardless of her roommate's interests. Cruella, merely a spectator of the genre, had the radio on all the time and rarely managed to fall asleep without an orchestral tune playing however faintly in the background. They both had better luck falling asleep when within arm's reach of each other. 

Satisfied with the finishing touch—a framed aria by Mozart that Cruella had given Ursula for her last birthday—Ursula was about ready to turn in for the night. She had a few chapters to read, but they could wait until breakfast. She had a guest at the moment that deserved more attention.

Cruella grinned her approval at the final wall hanging. "I can't wait to move off-campus. Get a place to ourselves."

"I know, I know…" Ursula tugged at Cruella's hand until she moved close enough for a kiss. "Sorry you have to room on a different floor. Housing really screwed up."

"We could always put in for a room transfer…"

"We could…" Ursula agreed, pleased they were seemingly on the same page about where their relationship was headed.

Before they could think more about it, there was a whole semester to get through. Which reminded Ursula—she still had paperwork to turn in. Grabbing a folder off the desk, she stole another kiss before heading out the door. "I'll be back in a bit."

Cruella took up a perch on the upper bunk with a magazine in hand.

Crashing into the dorm room, Regina was always one to make an entrance. She slammed into the desk chair and skidded a few inches across the floor. Her bag skidded farther across the floor and halfway under one of the bunk beds. The frequency of her dramatics dulled their impact on her friends, but at least they always had a clear warning signal that something was up.

Completely unfazed by the landing of Hurricane Regina, Cruella waited for her to start ranting. Regina's arms crossed indignantly over her chest and her mouth pinched into an angry pucker. 

"Rumor has it," Cruella broke the quiet standoff with arbitrary page-turning, "that one of your charming residents is royalty."

Regina didn't greet her, just as greetings weren't Cruella's style. Poking at the sore spot was her style: Cruella had a talent for not beating around the bush when an easy target revealed themselves. Maybe it was the dry, British wit or maybe it was the thrill she got from pushing people's buttons.

The blonde continued flipping pages, cracked open a perfume sample and sniffed. The odor was unpleasant in her opinion, turning her off to the rest of the magazine. Cruella tossed the magazine down to the desk as she flipped on her side and cradled her head in her hand to watch Regina pout.

"No comment for the press?"

Unmoving, Regina watched the door. "I was looking for Ursula. Is she going to be back soon, or should I try again later?"

"She went to make a copy or something," Cruella languished on the bed, stretching her legs and wriggling her toes. "Spot of tea in the meantime?"

A small flick over her wrist and a china teacup full of hot liquid appeared in front of Cruella. Taken a bit aback, Cruella sniffed to make sure it was legitimate.

"I was actually offering to make a cup for you, darling, but if you insist…"

Sipping the tea gingerly at first, Cruella settled into the mattress again. Regina clearly refused to calm down. It was only the first day of classes and she was already worked up into a tizzy? It had to be a record, even for Regina.

"Is the little chippy under your skin already? Got your dander up after a few hours in the same building?"

Unable to contain her frustration, Regina engaged in the conversation, "You know who she is?"

"Ouch!" Cruella purred, "Thought it was pretty obvious. Maybe nobody's splashed her photo in the papers since she was fifteen, but those glasses aren't fooling anyone."

"Only herself, maybe."

Sipping loudly, Cruella didn't much care for Regina's woes, but she took the silence as her cue to inquire further. "So… she hasn't done anything. Yet, presumably?"

Regina drew her hand over her forehead. "She nearly blew us all up in class today."

"Ah, so you have class together with the old coot."

"The Apprentice…" Regina said, about to defend him before the reasons fell flat. He had more experience than all of them hundreds of times over, but it was he that told Emma to attempt the assignment. If she couldn't read the language, how could she be expected to understand nevertheless control her magic?

"Yes, the Apprentice, forgive me."

"Where is Ursula?"

"I told you, making copies or something. She just went downstairs. Is my company really that intolerable?"

Restless, Regina sprung up from the chair and circled the room. A cup of tea seemed like it might be calming enough, after all. Materializing one for herself, she generously refilled Cruella's as well. "No, it isn't. I'm just flustered."

Sitting up and curling her legs under her, Cruella held up her tea now that it had proper companionship. She was almost ready to show sympathy. "Out with it, Regina, come on. You have a tyrant in your suite, you went to class with your incompetent professor, the tyrant nearly got you all blown up… Actually, I'm starting to see where this unfortunate story is headed. Never mind. Ursula will be better at this than me."

"Sadly, you've improved significantly since you moved up here."

Proud of herself, Cruella lifted her cup in the air, "Cheers!"

After a beat more silence, Cruella interjected, "Is this the part where we talk about my day because you'd rather deflect conversation about yourself until Ursula gets back?"

"Yeah, sure. How was the first day of classes for you, Cru?"

"Boring, actually. Same people, only slightly different classes. I dunno why I felt the need to mention it."

Both women fell quiet, wondering why it was that they got along just fine, even jovially, while Ursula was around, but could never quite carry on a conversation when it was just the two of them. Small talk bored them both. Their fields were completely different. They didn't really know that much about each other, and neither had bothered to dig any deeper than the superficial. That evening, it appeared, would be no different. Therefore, they settled into their drinks in companionable silence.

Walking in on the genial quiet, Ursula didn't notice Regina in the corner until she saw Cruella looking in the corner. "Am I interrupting a moment, or are you two plotting someone's demise without me?"

"Not much plotting yet, but it's in the pipeline," Cruella provided.

Regina frowned, "It is not. Treason is a whole other ballgame."

Ursula played visual ping pong between the two of them. Leaving them alone usually meant the slow death of conversation followed by a series of crude jokes at the expense of actors or politicians or hippies. None of them were good, and the characteristic smiles they usually had on were devious at best.

"Treason… that's a new one. The resident giving you trouble?"

Sobered by the return of Emma to the discussion, Regina put down her tea as she replied flatly, "She has magic."

"O-oh," Ursula stammered, "That explains her choice in school."

"Unfortunately."

"The Apprentice is really the only teacher in the country?"

Regina shrugged. "He's the best on the East Coast at least. It looks like they'll be starting from scratch."

"What happened?" Ursula read the signs in her friend much more quickly than Cruella.

"She set a feather on fire."

"No shit! How badly did everyone overreact?"

"Pretty badly. I know I did," Regina admitted quietly, "I jumped down her throat."

"I bet…" Ursula stepped forward and offered her a hand. Regina took it but only briefly. "Are you okay?"

"I'll be fine. I just had to get out of there, and going back to my room wasn't exactly an option."

"Yeah… you can hide in here for as long as you need."

"Thanks."

Ursula winked, pulled a scarf off the corner post of her bunk and tossed it at Cruella. "Got your keys, Reggie?"

"Yeah," she nodded, "Where are we going?"

Checking her watch, Ursula figured the time was good enough, "Plenty of time before last call."

"Brilliant!" Cruella jumped off her bunk and pulled on shoes. "I hope this is going to become a habit…"

By last call, Ursula sincerely hoped that Regina's post-magic studies ritual was not going to include massive amounts of alcohol. Magic or not, her liver was going to be shot. She had been rambling on about the state of the government in an attempt to poorly veil her displeasure at being faced with her own losses. Ursula knew better and Cruella was too deep in gin and tonics to know the difference.

Regina leaned into Ursula as she whined to her drink, "Why would anyone wanna be a princess anyway?"

"Like your mother fancies herself the queen?" Cruella drawled.

Regina scoffed, "If my mother fancies herself as anyone, it's Wallis Simpson."

Cruella smirked, "Ten points to Slytherin for the historical reference…"

Regina flipped her thumb, index and pinkie fingers up and stuck a petulant tongue out. Ursula patted her little rock star on the head and she settled back down.

"I don't know how either of you are sitting up right now."

"Persistence and a shameless refusal to conform," Regina answered very seriously.

Her drink was nothing but melting ice anymore and Ursula signaled the barkeep to fill it up with water. Regina would sip away without noticing the non-alcoholic substitute for her usual vodka. Being the pair's dedicated driver on many occasions really had taught Ursula more useful tips and tricks than any college course could have tried to.

"Why does she have to be here?" Regina asked pitifully, getting a kiss on the head from Ursula, "What's a princess need with a Bachelor's?"

"She's evil," Cruella said quickly, "Nasty little witch."

"I'm pretty sure that counts as slander or treason or something," Ursula cooed to them both, "and it is a stupid title the entitles her to lots of responsibilities and whining people that are going to critique everything she does. It'll be awful."

"God save the king," Cruella amended, raising her glass in the air.

Regina joined her in the motion, but added in sicker humor, "Long live the king!"


	7. Chapter 7

Morning broke with Emma in a cheerier mood. Perhaps it was the later start to her day, or knowing that she wouldn't have to deal with magic classes for a whole day. She might be able to avoid Regina all day as well, but she wasn't sure about those odds. Either way, it was a new day full of possibilities… and a couple of long lectures for her intended major.

She holed up in a corner booth with a cup of coffee and a plate of waffles emblazoned with a collegiate "BC" in the center. Scrolling through her syllabi for the day's classes, Emma noted an article she needed to skim before class. She pulled up the article on her phone but focused more intently on the buttery waffles than discourse on the origins of alliterative poetry.

"Morning!"

Emma didn't notice the friendly face approaching until he took the booth seat across from her. Killian slammed down his own plate of waffles along with a full can of whipped cream which he waggled in front of her papers, "Want some?"

Emma slid her half-eaten plate towards him. "Hit me."

"Already behind on homework?"

"Yes, obviously," Emma chuckled, "It's only the third day of class—I'm surprised I haven't forgotten about an essay already."

Killian shook the canister and made a formidable tower of whipped cream on the waffles. "Ah, give it 'til Friday. There'll be some nonsense you've missed."

"I'm more likely to forget to go to class entirely."

Killian loaded up his own waffles with whipped cream and started chowing down. Emma gave him the once over in the unforgiving fluorescent lights of the dining hall. His charming accent did nothing to cover his shoveling manner of eating—forget that she'd been to too many diplomatic functions to fall for his cheeky English dialect. Luckily, he would never be mistaken for one of the prep school ponces that attended obligatory high society events. While she was sure he could easily clean himself up, she would also bet that he would sooner be caught dead than remove his eyeliner.

"Whatcha got today?" he asked through a mouthful of waffle.

"Uh, Medieval Lit before lunch and poetry after lunch," she answered, tapping the pages she abandoned in favor of food, "Hence breakfast reading materials."

"Alliterative?"

"Yeah."

"If you're not taking poetry with Ol' Sneezy, you might as well not go."

"Who's Ol' Sneezy?"

"Only the best professor you'll ever have! Tom Clark: he's a right curmudgeon sometimes but that's just because he's got allergies or a cold, which he always does. Used to be a pharmacist but ditched it to be a writer."

Emma winced, "Doesn't necessarily sound like a likely candidate."

"Yeah, well…" Killian thought for a brief second, "Yeah, alright, not a great pitch. But! I've taken three classes with him and he just gets it. He's great at unpacking dense material."

"Are you an English major?"

"Aye," he nodded while munching more.

Emma snorted at his word choice. So…piratey, much like his heavy metal, all black, brooding-in-the-afternoon-sunshine look. Not entirely unlike what she would expect of someone with strong opinions about poetry professors.

"Sneezy's your favorite. Any other recommendations?"

Killian shrugged. "The rest of the lot is fine. They get deep into literature on the weird stuff—witches, dystopia, madmen and the apocalypse. I don't think anyone is interested in discussing the lighter side of literature—family, love…"

Surprised by the depth of his response, Emma inquired further, "Got any other opinions of the program I should know about?"

"Family and love. It's the start of every great work! We go to war over family slights, we do the stupidest things for love—think about it. When was the last time you did something motivated by a madman bringing about the apocalypse?"

Emma snorted. "In the current political climate?"

Killian rolled his eyes. "Bad example, but you know what I mean."

"Yeah, no, I haven't been tempted into any cottages made of candy lately."

"Ah—but someone's caught your eye before."

Emma hesitated, "Sure."

Killian squinted. "Coy. Unnecessarily short. Not touching that with a ten-foot pole."

"Wise."

"My point is, fancying someone is universal. Makes us want to be better people, create art, stand on rooftops singing to the heavens!"

"I can honestly say I have never had that last feeling."

"But some people have! What is it like? Who did Shakespeare write sonnets for? Why did Austen give her heroines so many sisters? What really brought Anna Karenina back to the train station?"

"Are you a student or a professor?"

Chuckling and wolfing down more waffle, Killian let the posited questions go. "Why do we get so sensitive about our love lives when we eat romantic tales so voraciously?"

He let the final question sit in the air. He may have said he wouldn’t dive deeper into her evasive response but could speak as theoretically as he wanted.

Noncommittally, Emma shrugged. A long sip of coffee gave her the room to breathe before countering his supposition: "Romantic tales don't make mistakes. They can't hurt us. They're a playground for dumb little kids who know nothing about what it's really like to be in the real world."

Killian nodded, polishing off his waffles in silence. He picked up her nearly empty coffee mug and wagged it like the topic was completely gone along with his breakfast. "Cream and sugar?"

"Uh, yeah, thanks."

Killian scooted out of the booth and jogged over to the drink station.

Emma wondered if she'd said too much. Cynicism turned people off. Waffles didn't ask her about her experiences with love. They were sweet and loaded with whipped cream that Killian was sweet enough to share.

She fiddled with a syllabus, feeling foolish for letting walls spring up as quickly as they did. He didn't know her past—he couldn't, for so many reasons—and couldn't have known her whole story was a touchy subject. Family. Love. The two things he longed to talk about were the two she wanted to avoid like the plague.

Killian returned with her cup refilled and one of his own. He gingerly placed hers between her papers and took a sip of his to prevent it from overflowing.

"Got a bit carried away… Sorry."

Emma shook her head and took a sip. The drink was perfect. He picked up another of her syllabi and perused the information. Emma quietly attended the rest of her breakfast.

After a couple of minutes, he asked, "Medieval first?"

"Yeah, then poetry."

His nod was exaggerated and his attention too clearly on anything but Emma. The silence deadened. They didn't know much about each other, and though this should be a time to learn something more about their shared interests, they were both at a loss for topics of conversation.

Emma took another sip and sat back in the booth. "Where'd you learn to make a crummy cafeteria coffee taste good?"

Scratching the back of his head, he answered sheepishly, "Fishing boats."

"Really? Wait—seriously?"

"Love to sail. Hate to fish."

"I believe it!" Emma laughed, "How'd you get that gig?"

"Grew up on boats. Dad taught us how to sail, but that was about it. Some of the lads he worked with gave me jobs here and there. Had to put myself through school somehow."

Appreciative of his openness, Emma reconsidered her lockdown on information. The way he talked about his father made it clear there was far more to his story than a few sailing lessons and kind men giving a kid a job. Family. Love.

"And the coffee?"

A wild grin broke out over Killian's face as he explained, "Ah, yeah, we had to make do, but a bad cup on the rolling seas would send you right over the side."

Emma laughed, pulling her knee up to rest her elbow on. Comfortable with her findings, she checked the time. Class started in about 20 minutes. She bolted up and apologized for the abrupt departure as she packed up her bag. Killian offered to take her plates to the dish return so she could get on.

She thanked him, tossing her bag over her shoulder and giving Killian a pat on the shoulder. Gaining courage from the last sip of brew, she blurted, "I thought I loved someone once, but they're gone now. I'll never really know, you know?"

Looking stunned by the hasty honesty, Killian stammered, "I—uh, I look forward to reading your poetry assignment about them."

Emma gave him a cheeky grimace before skipping out of the dining hall.


	8. Chapter 8

Emma hadn't paid much attention to her Magic Studies curriculum outline. While unwittingly flipping through her syllabus to find the due date for a paper on ceremonial magic during the Renaissance, the topic for the current week's lessons struck her: dueling. They were going to learn the rules of a traditional duel, the dangers of modern rogue dueling, and practical techniques of offense and defense. They were going to train on dummies but they were going to be tested on each other. It said right there in ink that their midterm and final would include practical components in dueling.

Learning to duel with magic rattled Emma. Learning to duel at all seemed insane to start with, but add magic and the limited pool of prospective partners was thoroughly unpleasant.

The Apprentice was a good teacher. There was no reason to expect anything different from his confidence in their skills than he had already shown in his teaching methods and fairness in grading. Insignificantly, they should expect to learn something valuable—if they ever found themselves down the road in Salem surrounded by angry Pilgrims…

Cutting through campus for class, Emma ran into Elsa leaving the library. Though not particularly talkative to start with, Elsa didn't appear excited to go to class either.

"Hey," Emma greeted neutrally.

"Hey," Elsa replied automatically, staring ahead of them absently.

"What's up?"

Elsa shrugged. "You?"

"Nothing much…" Smirking, Emma relaxed. It was an obvious lie. Something about their mutual denial made Emma feel better about her own apprehension. "You wanna talk about it before we get in there?"

Elsa shook her head. "Not really."

"Okay," she agreed nonchalantly.

They walked on for a while in silence. Elsa sighed. "Just keep your head down today. I don't know that any of us are prepared for this."

"I'm sure it'll be fine," Emma posited bravely, "It's the first day. He's not going to ask us to do anything crazy. We'll probably conjure something small and reabsorb it."

Elsa fiddled with the strap on her water bottle. "For 90 minutes?"

"Sure—what do we look like, sorcerers or something?"

Elsa blinked, visibly confused by Emma's declaration. When she looked back, Emma was laughing. The levity seemed to break the tension in Elsa's shoulders. She cracked a small smile and plowed on to class.

As the class began, it appeared that the Apprentice's lesson of the day stemmed from the gaps in education that they had all suffered. Non-verbal spells had been the basics for the last couple of weeks, but now it was time to put something else into practice.

Breaking off into magician-dummy pairs, Elsa chose the dummy that looked the burliest and sturdiest to stand up to her unpredictable ice magic. Emma managed to grab a dummy that seemed like it would fall apart at any minute. Regina grabbed the nearest dummy and started prepping a fireball.

"Settle down, Regina," the Apprentice directed, "Don't send them to the rafters."

"No promises."

Sighing, the Apprentice nodded. "Have a go, then."

Regina took up her fireball only to notice that all of them were watching her. Focusing on the dummy, she shot a fireball at it and the poor people placeholder immediately burst into a tower of flames. Regina exhibited no sign of her success as the Apprentice assessed her approach. Her attack wasn't about disarming her opponent or defending herself. It was a purely destructive tactic.

"Control it, Regina. You are protecting yourself, not committing arson."

Regina looked at the dummy, frustration coloring her expression. Her arms came up and her tense fingers attempted to clamp down on the fire and shrink it down to size. The flames flickered bigger and smaller, but to no avail. The flames burned high into the air.

Silently, the Apprentice employed the counter curse on the dummy and the fire quickly mellowed out to a fine candlelight. Regina stepped back, her gusto turned grump.

The Apprentice turned to his other pupils and flourished his arms in a graceful challenge, "Next?"

Regina stomped to the back of the classroom and leaned against the wall. Elsa and Emma shied away.

"Thank you for volunteering, Ms. d'Arendelle."

Emma sighed with temporary relief as Elsa's fists tightened. Elsa stepped forward to set up her dummy. Emma glanced for a place to get out of the way and noted how tightly wound Regina was against the far wall. She approached cautiously and leaned beside her.

"What's got your goat?" Emma asked quietly.

"He's waiting for us to fail," Regina griped, "I refuse to give him the satisfaction."

"Okay…"

Regina was coiled like a serpent ready to strike, her glare focused on their teacher without remorse. The answer wasn't clear to Emma, but she decided not to pry.

Elsa got a clear shot off at the dummy's center mass, though a few stray shards of ice clipped the shoulder. Shaking the last bit of tension from her hands, Elsa spun quickly away from the dummy. The Apprentice gave her a little nod before calling Emma up.

Emma dragged a dummy up next to Elsa's popcicled one. She had no idea what was going to happen when she held up her hands against the dummy. Standing back a ways, she sucked in a breath and lifted her arms. Her fists were clenched. She shook out her arms, raised them again, and gently opened her hands.

A fine mist sparkled from her palms. Short bolts of white-hot energy shot through the cloud. She clasped her hands shut. If Regina was right about the Apprentice expecting them to fail, she wasn't going to be on that list alongside Regina's overblow flames.

Opening her palms again, she thrust her intentions forward. She had nothing in mind, only what magic wanted to happen to protect her. A few sparks flew from her fingers this time, but nothing that came anywhere near reaching the dummy.

She decided to roll with sparkles. Electricity. Lightning powers would be cool.

Pushing harder now and focusing on thoughts of crashing thunder, a bolt exponentially stronger than the previous fizzles shot out of her hands. Panicking, she pulled back and the last of the bolt flew off course. The dummy—scorched at the core—wound up fully decapitated.

Grimacing at the overcompensation, Emma felt her hands get clammy. They shivered with sweat.

The Apprentice's sigh was audible. He levitated the head back onto the dummy's shoulders and effortlessly restored the two pieces into one.

Grumbling from the back, Regina guffawed, "Perhaps we should have started with mending spells…"

"Thank you for your input, Ms. Mills," groused the Apprentice, "As with all things, we must know where we are before we can move forward. Ms. Swan, please stay where you are. We will continue from here."

Clenching up, Emma regretted telling Elsa it was going to be fine and finding that Regina wasn't entirely wrong. She folded her arms but listened to the Apprentice's instructions carefully: "Now, defense isn't the same as offense. All of you have a tendency towards the latter. What we are going to do is reel it back, take it slow, and work our way back to offense."

The Apprentice whipped the three dummies into a row and waved for his pupils to approach. Once they were each standing in front of their respective dummies, the Apprentice continued: "Work on directing your attacks and confining them to your dummy. Remember, we are only attempting to stun our opponents today."

The dummies were close together now—as were each of the sorceresses—making targeting something singular without going out of bounds more of a challenge. Rather, the stakes were real now. Firing off course could mean hurting the person beside them.

"Ready!"

The students didn't have time to think. They quickly spaced themselves as far apart as they could.

"Aim!"

Each squared up with their dummies, hands out and ready to release a mild spell against the targets.

"Fire!"

Blasts surged towards the dummies. Elsa aimed with more precision than her former attempt, but the heat and force from Regina's fireball pushed Elsa's dummy into Emma's dummy, causing Elsa's ice magic and Emma's energy blast to smash together in a shower of sparkling hail.

Everyone moved to dodge the blowback. Elsa tackled Emma to the ground. Regina tucked behind a table. The Apprentice merely held his arm in front of his face before deflecting the debris away from the group. He doused the magic like Elsa had contained Emma's burning feather on the first day off class.

The explosion contained, Regina scooted out from under the desk and Elsa rolled off Emma. Emma took her time getting up and dusting herself off, letting the shock of the quick action settle in her bones.

"I told you to keep your head down," Elsa said sharply, brushing her hair out of her face and lining up to fire at her dummy once again.

The surprisingly harsh warning from Elsa caused Emma to hesitate before lining up again.

Regina grumbled an apology and set herself up even further away from the two of them.

Emma looked at the Apprentice. He was far from fazed this time. He was expecting explosions today. He was, in fact, waiting for them to fail, but not in the way Regina implied. Emma realized they were testing boundaries, maybe in more ways than one.

She lined up beside her classmates. They all took their stances again, this time ready for each other's magic to interact unexpectedly.

The Apprentice barked again, "Ready! Aim! Fire!"


	9. Chapter 9

Exhausted by the time she returned to the dorms that evening, Emma's only thoughts were of dinner. Specifically, cheese melting in any form: stuffed crust pizza, nachos loaded with beans and salsa, quesadillas crammed with chicken and steak, grilled cheese thick with freshly sliced onions and crispy bacon to make the mouth drool.

Mulan buzzed in behind her and flew into her room, calling indirectly to Emma, "Just give me a minute!"

Emma fell down into the common room couch and almost immediately regretted the action. She could tell every muscle would be sore in the morning. Her arms were beginning to ache already. Eating would be difficult unless she chose the classier method of slamming her face into the plate.

The main door to the suite creaked open. Regina hobbled into the room, lumbering along much as Emma had been.

"How's that knee, trooper?"

"Shut up," Regina grunted.

"Mulan is dragging me to dinner. You're welcome to be dragged along too if you can find another shoulder."

"I have office hours."

"Suit yourself."

"I usually do."

A shut door ended the conversation promptly. Emma had tried, and there was no harm in trying. After the session of beating up by test materials and being beaten up by proxy, they might have had something in common. They might have had something to whine about together. Emma guessed that was wishful thinking, but should have known better. Regina's disinclination towards showing anything mildly resembling weakness or inferiority was abundantly clear.

"That was almost civil," Mulan commented, poking her head around the corner.

"Almost," Emma agreed, "Ready to go?"

"Yeah—I think the guys are meeting us outside."

"Awesome," Emma moaned as she sat up.

"You sound pathetic. Your body shouldn't be rejecting physical activity yet."

Shuffling out the door, Emma's body begged to differ. "I'm really out of shape."

"What class do a lit major and a chem major take that causes you to get all beat up?"

"Gen Ed crap," Emma answered quickly.

"Did you ever play any sports?"

Her response was merely a blinking look to her peripherals through half-open eyes.

"Yeah, okay, maybe that's a bad question. What did you do when you were a kid?"

"Uh, lots of dolls, lots of croquet, I think I took a ballet lesson once. There was a month where I wanted to play tennis every day. I was like… eight."

"So, no, you did not have a lot of sports."

"Can't put the heir to the throne in danger, even from Nerf."

As they stepped outside the dorm, the breeze kicked up. Falling leaves blew across the lawn as the September sun slowly rolled towards October clouds. A windy chill cut through Emma's jacket and sent a shiver up her spine. The involuntary jerk radiated pain in every muscle from her back to her calves.

"You've got a black belt, right?"

"Sash," Mulan corrected gently, "I'm trained in several styles of Chinese martial arts, but that's neither here nor there. Why?"

"Can you teach me how to fight?"

Mulan laughed, "What for?"

"I—" Emma stumbled to explain without diving too deep into what they were doing in class. "I don't have the stamina everyone else in class has. Regina might look worn out but she was way ahead of me."

"Don't compare yourself to others' performance. Especially not Regina's. She puts a lot of pressure on herself to do well so it's not surprising that this class is easier for her. Just take it easy and you'll figure it out."

"I took it as easy as I could, but mostly because I was out of my depth. If she took it easy, it was because she was bored."

Mulan's eyebrow shot up, "Really?"

"She could mop the floors with me."

Seeming to take the flippant comment more seriously than Emma expected, Mulan turned to her and developed a formidable stance. Resigning herself to the mission, she answered, "Okay, I'll help you learn some defensive techniques."

"Only defensive?"

"Are you planning on using offensive?"

"Don't you kind of wind up doing a little of both?"

Mulan didn't appear pleased with the assessment. "I can't stop you from picking up things you observe when I attack you."

Emma scoffed. "Yeah, my focus won't be split at all."

Mulan frowned. "Looks like I know what the first lesson will be…"

"I'm already testing your patience and we haven't even set a time."

Crossing her arms, Mulan's eyes flickered up to the sky. Wispy, white clouds drifted in from the east.

From the other end of the lawn, Emma spotted the boys toting Ruby crossing the grass towards Vanderslice. Even from a distance, she could hear August complaining about campus food.

"Thirsty Thursday!" Killian cheered in response, "We need a pint!"

"You have a hollow leg," Ruby came back at him, "But, yeah, I'm sick of the salad bar."

August laughed loudly, "Have you ever even had anything from the salad bar?"

"I have, too! That's where the bacon bits are."

"So," Mulan cut in, "where are we going?"

There were a few things within a five minute walk of their end of campus, but nothing that sparked anyone's interest. No one wanted to walk anywhere either. Mulan recommended a typical bar not far off-campus, but it meant finding vehicular transportation.

"Come on," Emma said, nodding towards the parking lot. Walking up to her bright yellow Volkswagon Beetle, the gang almost reconsidered their want for variety in their diet.

"We might be desperate, but is it worth cramming in there like clowns in a car?" Mulan half-joked.

"Yes. Shotgun," Killian answered without hesitation and tried to finagle the front seat forward to slide the others in the back.

"Get your bony ass in the backseat," August pushed Killian in the backseat. Taking the jump seat himself, August's shoulders definitely needed the room more than the thinner framed Killian. It was only a short drive, but the three stuffed in the back managed to yell at Killian to stop complaining at least three times along the way.

It was difficult enough to find parking on campus, but owing to the dinner hour it was even worse in town. With her personal parking spot-spotters acting as a peanut gallery form of a GPS, by the time they parked Emma was laughing so hard there were tears in her eyes. Watching them scramble to get out of the backseat was enough to set any of them off. August had to tug Mulan out before the rest of them could jostle themselves free.

The group barreled into the restaurant in a tizzy of gripes and laughter. Mulan approached the host stand and put in for a booth for five. August headed to put in for their first round of drinks at the sleek bar: polished chrome finish, white painted brick and pops of red on the walls with a sweet-looking brunette working behind the counter.

They crammed into the first booth they were offered. By the end of the meal they would be sitting on one another and swapping drinks and tastes of their food that a wider space would only impede.

Revelrous carousing slowing with emptying pints, Emma and Killian offered to buy the next round. Chivalrously, Killian offered a hand to Emma who took it with a curtsy and let him lead her to the large bar at the center of the space.

Mulan and August spread out on their side of the booth and finished the dregs of their drinks. Each contentedly sighed at the break from campus cuisine, the smooth relief of a cold beer, and the promise of more on tap. Opposite them, Ruby sat hunched over the last of a very red burger and a mound of fries.

"Someone needs to tell him he's barking up the wrong tree," Mulan commented absently, slurping down her own frothed beverage.

"Aw, come on. It's cute," August protested, "I haven't seen him flirt this hard since… well, since the last time we went to a bar with a cute waitress, but that had more to do with rum than actual interest."

"That place didn't even have windows," Ruby grimaced.

"Okay—just watch," Mulan nodded at the bar.

The pair stood at the counter talking to the brunette bartender. Killian's smile was at full wattage as he pushed her card away from the bartender. The bartender seemed to be saying that she couldn't take Emma's card because Killian insisted on paying first. They jockeyed for the bartender's attention, which she laughed about, eventually distracting Killian with the first few glasses of the round to bring back to the table.

Emma watched him walk away and handed her card over. The bartender took it with a smile, reading the card and tapping it against her hand absently. She said something and curled a lock of hair behind her ear. Emma replied, kicking a knee up onto a stool and leaning against the bar. The bartender laughed again and ran the card. She handed Emma a receipt, which Emma signed as the bartender loaded up the remaining drinks onto a tray. Emma tried to grab them, but the bartender insisted. Emma asked for something, and the bartender handed her a napkin. Emma scribbled on the napkin and passed it back. The bartender bit her lip as she read it, then slipped the napkin into her apron.

"Damn, I should've taken notes," August muttered.

"Never take notes, mate," Killian commented as he slid the drinks onto the table. 

Ruby snorted. August glanced at Mulan, who winked in response.

Emma returned to the table with an amused grin. The bartender came over a second later with the rest of their drinks.

"Thanks, Aurora," Emma said smoothly.

"You're welcome," the bartender replied cheerily, "Let me know if there's anything else I can get you."

She smiled at Emma. Emma smiled back. Aurora gave a little nod before skipping back to the bar.

Ruby offered a high five up to Emma. "Fast work, slick."

"What?"

"Gaaayyyyyy," Ruby sang roughly, bopping Emma on the head for not reciprocating the gesture quickly enough.

Killian paused midway through passing out the drinks. They could all see the wheels turning in his brain.

"All good there, ace?" Ruby asked, mouth bursting with fries.

"Better than that potato in your gob," Killian balked at the carnage on Ruby's plate and quickly set her beer down before jerking away.

"Hey! Don't spill!"

"Sorry, just making sure I don't lose a hand," he quipped, wriggling the fingers on his non-prosthetic hand in her face. Ruby lunged forward and took a playful bite of air, causing Killian to jump back. Whining, he asked, "How do I always wind up sitting next to her?"

"You like it," the crowd said in unison.

Killian, heartily offended, denied the accusation without success. "Well, I sure as hell am not sitting in the backseat on the way home."

"Yes, you are," the chorus again vetoed his protestations.

"Why do I hang out with any of you?"

"You love us," they all sang at different pitches and times, Emma reaching over to rub his already messy hair and earning him a loving punch in the arm from Ruby.


	10. Chapter 10

On the morning of her magic midterm, Emma warmed herself up for the day with a stretch, a shower, and a lukewarm coffee from the deplorable machine in the basement. It was terrible but it would do. Not normally that early of a riser, today was going to be far too taxing not to give herself ample time. Close to frantic about the exam, there would be no consoling her over what she had resigned herself to believe was imminent disaster.

Headed out of the dorms in an anxious flurry, she came to an abrupt stop as soon as she hit the front door. She'd forgotten a critical piece of equipment: glasses.

Emma skipped back into her room to retrieve the ocular safety blanket but a frantic search of her room yielded no result. She flew into the bathroom and proved similarly unsuccessful. Buzzing around the suite, they were nowhere to be found. Finally having to give up on them, Emma distractedly went through her traffic patterns over the last twenty-four hours in her mind. She didn't remember taking them off or putting them down – her disguise was paramount even if hilariously ineffective.

Her phone buzzed. The first timer warning her that she needed to leave for the final. She would have to go without.

Emma arrived at the dungeon classroom to find her fellow students already there. Elsa, uncharacteristically dressed in her finest running shoes and yoga pants, stretched in the middle of the floor.

"Is this gym class?" Regina teased.

Elsa frowned. "I don’t exactly have confidence in my limitations…"

"Ice magic isn't a limitation!" Regina encouraged, "You can probably take us both out without a second thought."

"Just because the dummies didn't last long doesn't mean anything. You can fight back – and with fire no less!"

"You've got this," Emma said bravely, "We've all got this, right? It's just a duel…"

"Sure, Swan, just a duel," Regina nodded, "Nice to see your face."

Emma wasn't dumb enough to trust Regina agreeing with her and gave a squinting glare in return. Elsa had nothing to worry about, but Regina was definitely going to rip into Emma like a hound on a steak.

Though Elsa and Emma were decked out in athletic garb in preparation for a good amount of running and dodging, Regina looked her same old self in tall boots and fur-collared jacket. She appeared annoyingly unflappable.

The door to the larger room was open and the women braced themselves for the demons that lay on the other side. Through the door, the Apprentice had set out a veritable obstacle course of dummies and objects that glowed the same golden yellow that the door did when one failed to open it. As they entered the room, the various elements were triggered and began to light up in a rotation of red and green.

"Good afternoon, ladies," the Apprentice called as he called from a high corner, "Welcome to my creation."

"What's going on?" Regina asked.

"You will be dueling each other, as I told you before, but I left out an important detail: you will have to move around and within these targets. Pay attention to the colors: green earns you five points, amber is none, red costs five points. Think of them as enemies, scenery, and innocents."

Regina scoffed, "Target practice? I thought this was a bracket."

"Knockout rounds, in the style of the battle royale," the Apprentice corrected, "All three of you will compete until two are out and only one remains."

"We're paintballing for our grades?"

The Apprentice laughed haughtily. "Not quite, Miss Swan, but it will count as a second component to your grade. Beat your opponent, but they may still beat you."

"Is this a lesson in winning the war versus winning the battle?" Regina droned.

"It's an assessment of strategy," the Apprentice corrected, holding up a finger towards the ceiling in wizened explanation, "And since you haven't got the time to develop one, you will have to see how well you do on your feet."

Emma groaned, "Oh boy…"

"Combatants to your corners!" the Apprentice howled and they each found a place to fortify themselves. He tossed a hand through the air and on the back wall a wooden scoreboard with flipping number cards and a large horn appeared.

"One more thing," the Apprentice clarified, "non-verbal spells only."

"Shit!" Emma and Regina cursed.

"Ha!" Elsa laughed triumphantly. There weren't many words that went along with shooting snow and ice from one's fingertips. Emma and Regina shared a look of agreement that defined their primary target. Elsa was on her own.

The horn above the scoreboard blared. Regina and Emma followed their instincts to duck while Elsa fired right off the bat. They were showered with hailstones that tinkered away at the obstacles in front of them. The scoreboard shot off in a whir of hits and misses that Elsa managed to smack in the assault.

Without hesitation, Regina sprang up from her cover and threw back a fireball in Elsa's direction. Elsa dodged the blast but several targets between them earned Regina -10 points. Emma took the moment as an opportunity to move towards Elsa's corner. Elsa spotted the sneak attack when she ducked and turned the ground to ice. Emma slipped but Regina managed to keep her footing.

Elsa skated between the obstacles easily firing off icicles and racking up points. Regina fired another fireball as Emma tried to knock Elsa off her feet. Elsa spun out of the way in time for Emma's shockwave to land Regina on her back.

"Augh, Swan!" Regina yelped, reeling on the floor as pain shot up her back.

Feeling no regret, Emma made another move on Elsa. She was distracted attempting to eliminate Regina with shackles of ice around the wrists and ankles. Emma debated letting her finish off Regina, but she couldn't miss the chance to take out the other woman. Elsa was focused low, so Emma aimed high and knocked down a mountain of books on top of her classmate. Something felt wrong about trashing each other in that action, but Elsa really had taken the first shot and their professor was just trying to teach them to defend themselves…

The scoreboard locked out Elsa's score and she appeared in a cloud of smoke beside the Apprentice. She spun around confused, saw the pile of books and understood how she had been taken out. Angry about her quick departure, Elsa was at least resigned in the fact that her target score was in the positive.

Emma attempted to climb the fallen books to achieve a better vantage point on Regina. Not completely tethered to the ground, Regina saw Emma's blonde hair peeking over the ridge of the books and fired with a free arm to destabilize the base. Emma slid down and Regina melted the ice trapping her to the ground. Scrambling to their feet, both women were aiming at each other in tandem.

"Go ahead," Emma gasped for breath, "Take a shot."

"Need someone to play the villain, Miss Swan?" Regina mocked her with formality. There was disturbing truth behind the words and a twinkle in Regina's eye to confirm her complicity. She wasn't going to go down as quietly as Elsa.

Emma steadied her breath. "You wish, Miss Mills."

Regina's wrist gave a second subtle flick and Emma – not knowing what that small gesture was – cast a shield charm as quickly as she could. It was weakly cast so quickly, and the hex Regina had cast broke through it easily. Emma's feet glued to the floor.

The curse irritated her more than anything. Concentrating as hard as she could to create the biggest smoke cloud she could, she summoned a smokescreen between them and quickly dropped to free her feet. Once free, she redoubled her smoke and snuck around the room. She weaved behind other students and appeared right where Regina had been standing. She was gone.

Having crouched the whole way, Emma looked up to the place where she had been standing. Regina was right in the spot that she had glued Emma. Quickly firing again, Regina ducked in case something else came her way. The smoke cleared and a wide berth was now between them where books and dummies had been quickly incinerated. Regina had a sneery grin on and her wrist was already flicking. Emma jumped as high as she could the second Regina's hands finished.

Emma's initial low stance forced Regina's aim off. Emma landed unscathed. Leaving herself no time to catch her breath, Emma started spinning her hands in another defensive charm. Putting her full weight behind it, Emma cast the first jinx she could think of.

Prepared, Regina blocked the jinx and used the ricochet to explode the cabinetry behind Emma. Emma dodged the falling debris by diving behind the fallen stack of books. Regina continued to fire shots in the general direction of the fallen books to spook Emma out of her hiding place.

The words flew out of her mouth before Emma gave it a second thought, an excited scream that melted into crying swears. Regina was on the ground, but Emma failed. Infuriated with her mistake, she flopped down to the ground in exhaustion.

The Apprentice stepped to the center of the room and clapped. "Up, Miss Swan, Miss Mills! Brush yourselves off. Both of you, remember that the best defense is not always a good offense."

"Yes, sir," Emma and Regina gritted between their teeth in unison.

Regina rolled up and left just as quickly as the test ended.

"What was that?!" Elsa asked as she offered Emma a hand up.

"It was a mess," Emma admitted, accepting the assistance and brushing herself off. "I can't believe I used a verbal spell! I was so close…"

Elsa leaned back, startled. "That's what rattled you? Not the full-on duel you just had with Regina?"

Emma shrugged. "That was sort of the point of the test wasn't it?"

"It was about assessing our skills and tactics," Elsa corrected, "The Apprentice didn't even dock points for that little sweary outburst."

"He knows I don't deserve to be reprimanded after what she tried to bury me. It's not like—oh, let it go, Elsa," Emma huffed, charging down the hall towards the exit to the dungeons.


	11. Chapter 11

In the stairwell leading to the dungeon, there was hardly any natural light. The stones that formed the stairs were dark, uneven bricks that matched nothing else on campus and were just barely illuminated by metal sconces that held candles that never seemed to burn all the way down.

The buzz of electricity and the cool glow of halogen lamps signaled the departure from the secret classroom back into the land without magic. Bland and boring hallways filled with sunlight and plastic chairs grated against the strange world Emma left in the basement.

Emma whizzed through the hall with ease and plenty of clever little shortcuts to get outside as quickly as possible. By the end of her trek across the quad, she wasn't the only one in line for a hot beverage but she was the only one scowling at the distinct lack of cinnamon in the shaker at the self-service counter. Claiming her hot chocolate when the barista called her name, Emma ambled out of the coffee hut in search of the next distraction.

Emma's displeased disposition marginally improved with hot chocolate. Tiana hadn't even been working in the dining hall to make an illicit grilled cheese stuffed with comforting fried extras. She picked at her meal as Mulan and Mary Margaret jabbered. Ruby got bored attempting to coax laughter out of Emma, so when Killian appeared in the dessert line she joined him – instantly filling the dining hall with raucous laughter – and never returned to the girls' booth.

The look of disapproval reeking from Mulan was enough to turn off Emma food altogether. Her respectable roommate was far from the type she expected to understand why she was so upset about the test. Mary Margaret, on the other hand, looked panicked. It wasn't a color any of them had seen on her before.

As each snippet of conversation died, Mulan went to pillaging her phone for a conversation piece: a quiz, a news article, a gifset, anything to spark a lighter atmosphere. Mulan's face soured as she rolled through recently posted photos in her feed. She tipped her phone to Mary Margaret, whose eyebrow shot up in consternation.

"Huh…" huffed Mary Margaret, "That's cute."

Mulan shot a puzzled look at Mary Margaret and handed the phone to Emma. "Solved that mystery, Sherlock."

"What mystery?" Emma asked as she took the phone.

The photo onscreen had been posted earlier that day, not long before the magic midterm. It was a picture of Regina, looking comfy in a grey sweatshirt with her hair up and nails done. The caption read "felt cute might delete later… ;)". She wore Emma's thick black-rimmed glasses.

Emma handed back Mulan's phone despite the urge to chuck it into the salad bar. With a little bit of validation for her anger, Emma sat up straighter let the complaints flow: "It's one thing to be petty, but it's another to pull this kind of crap the day of our midterm."

Mary Margaret leaned in. "Is that what's got you in a grumpy mood?"

"I'm way passed grumpy. This proves she's been messing with me intentionally."

"Oh, sure, she's that devious," Mary Margaret commented with a flat sarcasm, "We should grab our pitchforks and lances."

"What happened?" Mulan urged for specifics.

"I let her get the upper hand."

"That's usually how a match goes. Someone's gotta win," Mulan provided.

"What class is this? Combat?" Mary Margaret asked, confused and still lacking clarity on what Gen Ed class Regina and Emma were both taking.

Emma continued, avoiding further specificity about the class. "She wasn't even trying to pin me down. She just tried to make me mad enough to screw up, and it worked."

"It only worked because those glasses aren't the only thing you're hiding behind."

The bitterness in Mulan's observation caught Emma's ear. She glowered at her roommate, slid out from the booth, delivered her soiled dishes to the kitchen collection area, and stomped out of the dining hall. She didn't make it far from the commons before they caught up with her.

"Oh, come on, Emma," chided Mulan unsuccessfully.

"Overthinking everything that happened isn't going to change it," Mary Margaret called, proving more successful at slowing Emma down, "Trust me, there's no way to change the past. You can only improve yourself in the future."

"By analyzing my mistakes."

Cutting Emma off, Mulan stood fortuitously in her path. "By acknowledging a mistake, and not making it again. Obsessing doesn't help. Acceptance does."

Emma watched Mulan carefully, wondering at her choice in the word 'acceptance'. It was an echo of the Apprentice's first lesson. She still wasn't sure what she was supposed to accept if not the fact that she couldn't change anything around her.

Arriving back at the suite, there were a number of unexpected visitors in the common area. In the common room, Ursula tended to a cut on Regina's head as Cruella popped bubblegum in a chair opposite.

Regina gave Emma a rueful look as she entered, which she didn't share for long after a heavy breath leeched from Ursula. Ursula appeared to be as disapproving as Mulan had. The parallels were disturbing.

Sitting on the table in the common area of the suite were Emma's glasses. Furious, Emma snapped up the frames and hovered over Regina. "Been looking for these all day."  
Regina looked up at Emma with a snide grimace. "Guess you should keep better care of your things, Swan. Anybody could've walked right off with them."

Mulan cleared her throat loudly as she opened the door to their dorm. Emma glanced at Mulan before popping the glasses on top of her head and traipsing obediently into the dorm room.

"Good match," Regina snipped as Emma was just out of sight, receiving an audible slap on the thigh from Ursula and a chuckle from Cruella.


End file.
